Astrology. It's my porn. It began with a late night Ceefax habit – even typing the word "Ceefax" makes me recall the intense, secretive thrill, in a totally Pluto-in-Scorpio way. Think of the dedication required to wait for several large pixel-font pages to load. That's the unswerving fidelity and attention to detail you only have when you have both Venus and Mars in Virgo. Hours later, Ceefax reached my Leo sun sign forecast. That's right: Leo. Like Madonna and JK Rowling, whose success I fantasise about eclipsing ... speaking of eclipses, there's a lunar one on 10 December so watch out for sudden epiphanies.

The cosmos is my crack cocaine and like all addicts, I crave my fix of stardust. Step in a horribly effective site called the Horoscope Junkie, which collates internet horoscopes. As with all addictive substances, you've got to be fussy about sources and quality if you really want to open the doors of perception into your own World of Wisdom and become as wise as Aslan. No, not Narnia's Aslan but Madalyn Aslan, whose enthusiastic weeklies I never miss.

Has anything astrology ever told me come true? I don't remember. Will it ever come true? I don't know. Does it add sparkle to my life? Astrolutely! As surely as an elfin Gemini at a cocktail party. Aren't I embarrassed to believe? Uh – we're about to celebrate the birthday of a half-divine man-boy-God born to a virgin, who was warned about it by an angel. Children are going to bed expecting an obese, middle-aged male stranger in a red suit to visit them in the night with a little present after travelling in a flying sleigh made by elves and pulled by reindeer. I'm not the weird one.

I love horoscopes because my present is boring and my past is embarrassing. I like to contemplate a future in which I have not yet humiliated myself. Some might say that horoscopes are the last resort of the deluded, the desperate, the falsely hopeful, the illogical, the superstitious and those with a tenuous grip on reality. I say: that's exactly what happens when dreamy, illusory Neptune's in Aquarius.

Astrological advice is invaluable, priceless – and, these days, free. Oh, Mother of the Skye, am I thankful for that! It's because we're currently living in the Age of Aquarius, whose ruling planet, Uranus, signifies innovation, technology, speed, communication and globalism. The internet is now as big as the universe, but dumber. Most of the best-known astrologers (like the Observer's Neil Spencer) have lost their magazine and newspaper contracts to the free net. But then, they should have seen it coming.